


Fireworks

by lordmxrphy



Series: big love, small parts [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordmxrphy/pseuds/lordmxrphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fireworks pop above them, bright and bursting with light, but nothing beats the boy in front of him. Soft and sweet with the taste of strawberries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



> Basically, I love Jenn, and I wanted to give her something for her birthday. I edited this drunk so apologies for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment below if you do :)
> 
> (p.s. technically, this takes place in the same universe as "I find you stunning..." but you don't read one to understand the other.)

_Monty tastes like strawberries._ That’s the last coherent thought Miller has before Monty sighs and slides his tongue into his mouth and he loses all thought. 

Fireworks pop above them, bright and bursting with light, but nothing beats the boy in front of him. Soft and sweet with the taste of strawberries. 

Miller slides his hand into Monty’s hair. He’s imagined this moment a hundred times, but nothing beats the reality of having Monty’s mouth against his and having Monty’s fingers pulling tight on the collar of his shirt. 

He smiles without meaning to and Monty makes a huffy noise when the kiss becomes mostly teeth. 

Monty drags his warm and wet mouth down to the juncture of Miller’s neck. His smile slips and his breath catches. His brain blurs for a moment before he has the strength to pull Monty back up into an impatient kiss. 

Monty’s mouth is full of summer. Berries and cream. Soda and sparklers. The fourth of July plays out around them, but all Miller knows is Monty. Monty’s breath, escaping in sighs. Monty’s hair, soft between his fingers. Monty. Monty. Monty.

Miller pulls back when he can’t spare his breath any longer. His chest heaves like he’s been underwater and he leans his forehead against Monty’s. Their breath mingles and disappears into the dark summer night.

“You kissed me,” Miller whispers into the space between their mouths. “You kissed me,” he says because he can’t quite believe it.

Monty tastes like strawberries and Miller knows because he _kissed_ him.

Monty smiles, Fourth of July lights shining in his eyes and catching in his hair. Red and blue and green and gold. The sky scatters across Monty. 

Strawberries are Miller’s new favorite flavor and this--this is Miller’s new favorite sight. 

“I got tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” Monty tells him, a laugh bleeding into his words.

Miller grins, full and free and reckless with the taste of Monty’s mouth still fresh on his lips.

He leans back in and kisses Monty until his mouth feels numb. The heat of Monty’s hand resting on Miller’s thigh burns through the fabric of his shorts.

Miller almost groans when the music starts to swell and the cracks of the fireworks speed up, building towards a big finish. 

He pulls away with a sigh and reaches down to grab Monty’s hand. Warm and the perfect size to fit his own. His fingers tighten around Monty’s and it takes Miller a moment to look away from their hands.

“Maybe we should go someplace more private,” he breathes, his heartbeat as loud as the bursts above them.

Monty leans in and presses a slow and soft kiss against Miller’s mouth. 

“The field behind the pool house is probably empty right now,” he whispers. 

Miller pulls Monty up as the Fourth of July’s finale plays out across the sky. 

But, luckily, Miller’s night is just starting.

…

Miller’s beard scrapes softly against Monty’s chin. He groans when Monty’s fingers dig into his hips, urging him closer. 

They’re tangled on the damp grass behind the pool house. The night is soft and warm around them. Above their heads, the stars wink and glint, smeared slightly by the hint of smoke left by the fireworks. 

Miller deepens the kiss, still chasing the taste of strawberries even hours later. He wants to bottle and keep the breathy sigh that escapes Monty’s mouth when he drops his head and presses a soft kiss to Monty’s collarbone. 

“Our friends are probably wondering where we are,” Monty breathes, even as his fingers press into Miller's shoulders, curling in like he never wants to let go. “Bellamy’s probably worried.”

Miller snorts, “Bellamy’s always worried,” he mutters into Monty’s skin.

Miller can hear the smile in Monty’s voice, it stretches his words. 

“Yeah, but I was supposed to be spending the night over at Wells’ house with Clarke. They’re probably wondering where I am. My phone keeps buzzing in my pocket.”

Miller pulls back, smirking, “You know, that explains a lot.”

Monty shoves him, laughter spills between them.

Midnight leans heavy on them, dark and endless, but the moon is near full. Miller’s smile slips a little as insecurity catches up with him. 

“Do you--do you want to go?” he asks, hesitant. The last thing he wants to do is untangle himself from Monty, but if that’s what Monty wants, he will.

Monty traces his thumb across Miller’s brow and down his cheek. His hands smell like firecrackers and freshly cut grass. 

“Fuck no.”

Miller lets out a relieved laugh and Monty leans up to catch the sound in his mouth. It rolls around between their teeth. Laughter, fireworks, and the possibility of first love. 

Miller means to keep the kiss brief, but he gets lost on the way.

He pulls away reluctantly. Monty’s eyes stay closed a beat longer and in that moment, Miller lets his gaze linger the way it wants to. 

Monty’s phone buzzes again and it drags Miller back to reality.

“I should text Bellamy before he sends out a search party or calls my dad.” 

The moments snaps at Miller’s words. Monty groans, his eyes opening and his head falling back against the grass. 

“Next time, we need to make a rule that no one is allowed to say Bellamy's name this many times when we’re making out. It’s a mood killer.”

Miller kisses his way up Monty’s jaw, lingering at the soft skin below Monty’s ear. Monty relaxes beneath him; his breath stumbles and trips.

“What?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Monty’s ear. “Is talking about Bellamy not hot for you?”

Monty shoves him and Miller laughs as they pull apart. A smile edges Monty’s mouth, ruining his attempt at a frown. Miller nips Monty’s jaw and sits up, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. There, he finds five missed texts from Bellamy.

He sends a message letting his best friend know he's okay, but he doesn't tell Bellamy where he is or who he’s with. He wants to keep Monty to himself a little longer. He's not ready to have Bellamy and their other friends butting into their relationship just yet.

He tucks his phone away and turns back to see Monty doing the same.

“What did you tell Wells and Clarke?”

“I told them something came up and I can't make it tonight. They both said it's fine.” Monty's fingers curl into Miller’s t-shirt, tugging him forward. Miller tangles their fingers together on the grass.

“You didn't tell them about… us?”

“Not yet, I know how they're going to react. I thought I'd put off the inquisition.”

Miller’s eyes trace Monty’s hair, his cheeks, his mouth. But he doesn't meet his eyes.

“What if we didn't tell them?” he whispers. Monty tenses but Miller tightens his fingers around his hand, “I just-- I like this, I like us just being...us. I don't want someone else to ruin this.” Miller lets out a frustrated sigh, “Sorry, I'm probably not making sense.”

Monty’s thumb brushes the back of Miller's hand. Soft. Careful.

“No, I know what you mean. When I dated Harper last year, it was awkward. It felt like our friends had… expectations. And then when we broke up, it felt like I was somehow letting them down. The only person I'm still close with from that group is Raven. Everyone else kind of took Harper's side,” Monty looks down at their hands twined between them, “I don't want to lose you or our friends. Maybe--maybe you’re right. Maybe we should keep it to ourselves for now.”

Miller leans forward and kisses Monty. Slow, his tongue tracing Monty’s until they’re both out of breath. It feels… it feels like this has been a long time coming. 

Once they finally pull away, lips chapped and smiles fuzzy, Miller lies back on the grass to gaze up at the stars. Cool, damp grass pillows his head. He doesn’t last long before turning his head to look at Monty--at the stars that catch in his eyes. 

“What are you thinking about?” Miller whispers. There’s no one around, but the feel of the night lends itself to quiet. To whispers. To secrets. It folds around them like a blanket. And Monty feels like the kind of magic that can only exist behind locked doors and under cloak of night.

Monty’s mouth pulls up. Miller’s lips are numb and his jaw is sore from the minutes and hours that he and Monty spent tangled together, exchanging breath and hope. Sparklers and slow, strawberry-flavored kisses.

Monty laughs when Miller leans over to catch his mouth again. 

The night is full of magic and Monty and, right now, there’s no place he would rather be.

…

The next time Miller kisses Monty, he tastes like skittles. They’re in the Jaha’s kitchen. Miller came to grab a soda when a familiar set of hands slid beneath his tee-shirt, goose bumps rise on his skin as Monty’s mouth whispers a kiss against the back of Miller’s neck. A shiver runs down his spine and he sets his glass down, turning to pull Monty into a kiss.

“Hi,” Monty says, breath hot against Miller’s mouth.

Miller smiles, “Hey.”

Monty’s thick dark hair cards through his fingers and Miller tugs him in for a kiss. First strawberries, now skittles, somehow Monty always tastes sweet. Miller’s hands curl into his t-shirt, their bodies pressing into a line.

Monty’s nails dig softly into Miller’s ribs. His tongue slides into his mouth. Miller never really liked skittles until that moment.

It’s been two days since he first kissed Monty. Two days since swapped air beneath the fireworks. Two days and Miller’s still buzzing. 

He hadn’t mentioned the moment to Clarke the next day or to Bellamy when he saw him. The moments with Monty were his, precious secrets he kept beneath his pillow, pulling them out to look at them at night. They were moments smuggled and hidden, invisible to everyone else. Every text to Monty felt like a secret--like a thrill. It felt like the rush he used to get playing hide and seek. It feels like holding his breath, swallowing laughs, and bursting with anticipation. It feels like the best game, the only difference is that with Monty, Miller feels like he’s already won.

Monty’s lips curl against Miller’s and he pulls away with a wink before heading back down the stairs. Miller licks his lips, tasting skittles.

...

“What have you guys been up to?” Miller sing-songs amused at the sight of his sister and their friends’ sloppy smiles and flushed cheeks, sitting in a circle in the basement. Bellamy snorts. It’s obvious to both of them that the group had been drinking.

Miller’s eyes flick to Monty and he tugs on his beanie, helpless to stop the smile that pulls at his lips. Monty’s glassy-eyed from the moonshine and Miller’s gaze lingers on the flush of Monty’s cheeks and the bright pink of his mouth. All he wants to do is pull Monty aside and kiss him until he can’t see straight.

It’s been a month since he and Monty started...whatever this was. Stolen kisses and secrets. Making out in the dead of night and stealing touches when their friends weren’t paying attention. Miller’s favorite moments are the ones in quiet of the night, in the privacy of his car on the late nights he drives over to Monty’s house with his headlights off. He loves kissing Monty when the rest of the world was sleeping--when it was just them two. It feels absolute, it feels endless. In those moments, time would stretch, molding minutes into seconds and infinities into the span of a breath. Moments became Monty’s gasps breaking the quiet and their laughs mingling in their mouths as they explored each other slowly. 

No one knew what they were doing. No one knew their secret. There was something exciting about having moments just for themselves. Something terrifying too. 

Miller sits down beside Monty. Clarke leans into Bellamy and Miller notices Raven’s smirk, but then Monty’s fingers brush his and he forgets everything but his own name.

Later, Miller kisses Monty with only a few hours left ‘til morning, the only time they could manage to slip away. Both of their mouths taste like moonshine. 

Miller groans and buries his nose in Monty’s neck. “You don't taste right,” he mumbles. Lips heavy and heart light.

Monty’s warm breath scatters across Miller’s ear when he laughs.

“I don't taste right?”

Miller shakes his head, not bothering to lift it from Monty’s shoulder.

“You always taste sweet. Like snickers or sugar or candy. The first time we kissed you tasted like strawberries,” he sighs.

Monty's thumb traces a circle on Miller’s jaw. 

“I can't believe you remember that.”

Miller pulls back to look at Monty, frowning. He fixes his gaze. Serious. Resolute.

“Of course I remember,” he huffs, “I remember everything about you.”

His crease in his frown starts to ease at Monty’s smile. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

Miller pauses, thinking.

“Your favorite color is yellow because when you were a kid your mom gave you a yellow bike for Christmas. You rode it for years, even after you got too big because you loved seeing how happy it made your mom.” Monty’s eyes are wide and Miller wants to laugh. (Maybe he does, he's too distracted to notice.) “You told that story at Raven’s birthday party last year.”

Monty is staring at him in disbelief so Miller goes on, “You love the Beatles, but hate their song Yesterday because you played it too many times one summer and now every time you hear it, it makes you think of being fourteen and--” 

Monty kisses Miller before he can go on--before he can list all the facts and figures he’s collected about Monty over the years. Monty’s mouth is sloppy and absolutely perfect. 

Miller thinks that he could get used to the taste of moonshine, but only on Monty’s lips.

…

They eventually get caught. By Murphy, of all people. Before that, there were a few close calls with Clarke and an incident in which Bellamy nearly walked in on them, but they manage to keep the secret until the end of summer celebration in Miller and Clarke's neighborhood. Miller blames the fireworks. The sounds and lights bring him back to that first night. Miller kisses Monty beneath the fizz and bang above their heads, unable to stop himself. He completely forgets their friends can see them until he feels a sharp kick in his side. 

“Get a room,” Murphy hisses from behind and Miller feels his face go hot. 

He turns to Monty, remorse heavy in his gut. 

“Shit, babe, I’m sorry.” 

Monty smiles and shrugs.

“They were going to find out eventually. Besides,” he says, tangling his fingers with Miller’s, “Now we don't need to make a plausible excuse to leave.” He leans closer, his breath clouding Miller’s brain and obscuring his senses. “I’ve been wanting to go back to the pool house anyway,” Monty whispers, he trails his free hand up Miller’s thigh, “There's something I didn't get to do last time that I want to try.”

Miller's mouth goes dry and he pulls Monty in for a hurried kiss, neither one of them paying much attention to the fireworks bursting above their heads. 

Fireworks and strawberries are hard to beat, but, two weeks later when Miller wakes up with Monty in the bed beside him, mouth fuzzy with sleep and ‘I love you’ still rolling around their mouths from the night before… _that_ , that is Miller’s favorite moment of all.


End file.
